


Praevalent inlicita

by 19Sigyn81, iraincensus



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Violence, slowly evolving relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:35:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/19Sigyn81/pseuds/19Sigyn81, https://archiveofourown.org/users/iraincensus/pseuds/iraincensus
Summary: How did Dorian become the person we know? The answer is quite simple. Zevran is to blame. Of course we had to bend some of the facts in their biography a little so that everything fits.Each of us writes one of them. So: chapters with odd numbers are written from Zevran's point of view. And chapters with straight numbers from Dorian's point of view.





	1. Zevran part 1

So that was Tevinter. He had expected much more of the biggest empire of mankind. Much more. Especially from Minrathous he had expected more. The whole city stank and there was nothing but rubbish. It was more appearance than substance. Most of the buildings here were pathetic. The inhabitants fought their way through mud and rubbish. He felt almost at home. The young elf looked skeptically into the sky. At least it had stopped raining. He stole an apple from the next stand and submerged himself in the crowd. His goal was clear. Now all he had to do was find it. In a city like this not necessarily easy. What made things even more complicated was the fact that he had to avoid every guard because he would be considered a slave. Not that that really bothered him, but should he be asked about his owner, it could be unpleasant. Why the crows had just sent him was a mystery to him. But well, it was as it was. His usual sources didn't help him here. If he went alone into an inn, the city guards were informed immediately. How vulnerable was this system when a single escaping slave could cause such panic?  
For days he had been walking through the dirty streets and alleys of the city. Where he could he overheard conversations and hoped to finally find a trace. But either his destination was so unimportant, or so feared that no one talked about it. He would probably have to try at night. If all the good citizens had loosened their tongues with enough alcohol. So he made his way towards the harbours. There was so much going on that he didn't even attract attention. Zevran had found a hiding place there, where he spent his time when necessary. He quickly climbed over a few boxes and pushed himself through a gap in the wall into one of the warehouses. He elegantly climbed the roof beams and made himself comfortable there. The apple quickly disappeared into his stomach. Satisfied, the blonde-haired man closed his eyes. He had nothing to do, so he could sleep a little. In the evening he was back in town. Pulling the hood of the stolen cape deep into his face, he sat at the bar and listened. He should have come up with this idea earlier. Unfortunately he only heard complaints about the condition of the city. If his client was right, he would probably have preferred to listen to the upscale taverns. However, this cladding was by far not good enough. But it depended on one attempt. His way led him to the better parts of the city. Well, better was relative. The buildings were a little higher and there wasn't so much rubbish. He sat down under an open window in the shade and listened. Quite boring gossip. More did not spill out to him. The elf spent the whole night listening, but nothing came out. The interesting thing had been the scolding of the young Pavus, who apparently made every effort to step on the feet of anyone who could not handle criticism. Back in his hiding place he lay down on a beam and fell asleep. Night after night the same thing. Nothing about his goal, only new stories about this Pavus. He had affronted this and that daughter from different houses. Why did they get so excited? The boy just could not deal with women. There were worse things. Not much, but there were. However, this gave him a new idea. If this boy should insult the wrong snake she might get the idea to hire someone to teach him a lesson. Even if it was not his goal, it could bring him to him. Zevran's plan was clear. It was a shot in the dark, but he couldn't think of anything better. The last possibility would be to write a message to Taliesen. A human could move freely here. But as this would have been tantamount to failure, he would first try this Pavus.  
Finding out the habits of this baby wizard was easy. He didn't even need three days. The little one was always accompanied by four guards. Apparently his family was also worried about his safety. Or they wanted to keep him under control. Both assumptions were possible. Zevran sat as so often on a roof and waited for the magician to leave his teacher's house. It was already dawning. The right time for an assassination. Finally, the small group came out of the house and made their way back. The elf followed them silently. He sensed the trap even before he saw one of the attackers. This road was clearly too quiet. Didn't these idiots notice that? There were less lights than usual and no soul was to be seen. The guards had just made their lap here, so it would take some time before someone would pass again. The attack came fast, but it wasn't as effective as it should have been. One of the guards fell under the first dagger blows. What beginners. Really now? They let themselves be pushed into a backyard. Now come on, that was embarrassing. Four against ten. That was probably feasible. Well, finally a couple of the attackers fell. The baby wizard waved his staff hectically, but the spells came terribly slow. When he hit, he burned his opponent to ashes. That was the point. If! Often enough his attacks went into emptiness. Finally the last bodyguard of the little one had fallen. Zevran's eyes began to sparkle. The leader of the attackers was his target. At least he wore the described dagger. Silently the elf left his vantage point. Behind the thugs his feet touched solid ground again. Under a few quick dagger blows, three of the rackets went to the ground. He stepped behind the leader and opened his throat in a flowing movement. He got a nice extra if this guy didn't die too fast. Should he choke on his blood. Disinterested, he grabbed his dagger and danced around the blood that gathered on the floor. Bloody boots, that would have been all he needed now. He put the dagger in his pocket and walked towards the young magician. He quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him behind him.

"Quiet. I would be surprised if only there had been ten of them."

He quickly pulled him out of this dead end, back onto the streets. With a skeptical look back, he twisted his eyes. 

"Sparkling like this, you can also be seen in the dark. Do your parents hate you so much that they give you a target to put on every day?"

He stopped and threw his stolen coat over the magician. Without another word he took the staff from him and wrapped it in a few rags. Zevran did not choose the direct path. Again and again he avoided into narrow and dirty alleys. Victims on the run always took the direct way. So the crows would have placed some men on the victim's entire way home. The last piece to the family house was critical. A wide, open and clean road. Everything was well lit. So he had imagined the capital and just didn't like it at all. Everything was clean, big and illuminated. Unseen they would definitely not get to the house entrance. Then it had to bring the disguise. He himself was like an elf in Orzammar, but they didn't chase him. 

"I really need a drink after this."

Slowly he stepped out of the shade with his appendage and walked straight towards the biggest house in the street. He listened to every sound as he knocked on the door. No suspicious noise penetrated his ears, no bow that was stretched, no bolt that moved buzzing through the air. As soon as the door opened just a little he pressed against it with his shoulder. Stumbling he came to stand inside and closed the door as fast as he could. As he turned around again, an older version of the baby magician stood in front of him. His staff was already shining. 

"Gently, gently. If I had bad intentions I wouldn't get through the front door. I don't think he believes me."

Prompted, he looked at the younger one.


	2. Dorian Part 1

With a mental resigned shake of the head, the young magician left the house of his so-called mentor, always closely followed by his escort, and turned purposefully to the left. Over the last years of his still young life he had wasted his precious time only with the kind of magicians who wanted to vehemently explain the theory of magic to him from the ground up. And yet, he mastered it like no other. For unlike most of the good house magician's offspring, who of course should only be taught by the supposedly best of their guild, Dorian had a great advantage - his head was not filled with straw. He learnt quickly and understood what was written in the countless books he had already had to roll repeatedly. Dear Andraste, he could even recite them freely. His problem was the practical implementation. The last "misadventures" should have proved this enough. But instead of listening to his arguments, they always used the same methodology. Because his lack of practical ability to implement could only be due to the fact that he did not understand what he had learned. Now one should think that in such a situation it would perhaps be better to give up magic. But first of all he was too stubborn for that and secondly he had hardly any other choice with his origin. Magic was in his blood, so he wanted to be able to master it. And if these self-praising master magicians didn't know how to help him, then he would go looking for someone himself who knew the reason for his failure. Not that he himself knew the cause... Until then he had to hide this flaw behind the self-confident appearance of a Pavus.

Dorian sighed and turned his gaze back briefly as he strolled through the still busy streets of Minrathous. The armed men followed him at a stride distance and seemed to want to lynch any citizen whose gaze rested on him for even a fraction of a moment longer than necessary. This wasn't the first time he noticed this in the last few days. It was certainly customary for young adolescents from well-off families to be "accompanied", but he didn't like anything at all about the recent behaviour of his guards. They were much too tense to be just vigilant.

How right he was with it should show up when they turned into the next alley and shortly afterwards a whole gang attacked them. Even though he wasn't skilled in magic in the field, running away was out of the question, even though the leader of his escort advised him to do just that at that moment. But honestly, if you look at it realistically, an escape at the ratio of 10 to 4 was hopeless. He would gladly die, if at all, rather trying to defend himself than as a coward on the run. So he reached for his staff and tried to focus. But the lack of experience in keeping a cool head in a situation like this makes a huge difference. Although he managed to cast a fire spell, the aiming didn't work out according to his liking. Dorian became nervous, but he was not allowed to give up now. Next time he took a deep breath and managed to set one of the attackers on fire. But hardly a moment later he had to find out soberingly that nobody of his bodyguards were alive anymore. While the remaining four opponents were still arguing about what to do with him, Dorian prepared for another attack. But this was no longer to happen. Completely surprised, he looked at the man lying on the ground right in front of him, who would soon choke on his own blood, and the bodies of his comrades behind him. Like... who... Even before he was completely with himself again, a person completely wrapped in black took his staff out of his hand and threw a cape over him, of course not without complaining about his conspicuous appearance. Now Dorian also returned from the temporary confusion, but did not have sufficient opportunity to snub this derogatory comment, as he was already being manoeuvred through the streets. Again and again they changed direction, sneaking through dark alleys. Dorian wondered if another ambush could wait for them in one of those, and why the man with the accent he had been unfamiliar with had helped him at all. He would like to confront him, but to complain at such a moment would be foolish.

When they finally arrived at his temporary residence after minutes that seemed infinite to Dorian and he stumbled into it behind the stranger, his tension vanished. His father, however, who had apparently let them in, greeted the other man with suspicion. A quite healthy attitude. Nevertheless, he stood resolutely between the two supposed opponents.

"Step aside, son. You can't trust a man like him."

"It's good to see you too, father. I hope you were able to do business in Qarinus to your satisfaction."

"Dorian, I say it now for the last time. Step aside."

"No."

Sighing, Halward Pavus lowered his staff. "Boy, don't be so naive. How could he possibly know where to take you?"

Granted, he knew nothing about this elf or his motives for saving his life. But at least he had done it and that was enough for him for now. The young magician first freed himself from the cape and pressed it into the elf's hand before turning again to his father.

"Do you thus thank the saviour of your heir? I don't really care what you're alluding to right now. If it had not been for him, I would lie dead in an alley just as dead as the men loyal to you.” Dorian gave the elf a look over his shoulder. Maybe in the end he even belonged to this gang himself and didn't want - whatever he hoped to gain from this - to share with the others and had betrayed them because of it?

"I admit there remain doubts, but you should give him a chance to explain himself."

"Very well. He should get a single chance."

Waiting, the older Pavus looked at the strange man in his house.


	3. Zevran Part 2

What a warm family life. Really delightful. He took the coat back and put it on. His hands lay on his daggers under the protection of the fabric. A question of speed and Zevran dared to win this duel. Only just the baby magician stood in the way. This blockade worked to his relief in both directions. The old man certainly had more scruples than he did. The elf watched the game calmly. Really a heart and a soul. Smiling he registered how the younger one decided this duel for himself. At least for now. Couldn't they have gone a little further? On the one hand it was very entertaining and on the other hand it was a good opportunity to escape. Unfortunately, this chance was now wasted. The blonde-haired man leaned against the wall behind him, emphatically relaxed. The crow took care that the younger magician always stood between him and his father.

"Zevran Arainai, at your service. I was hired to eliminate the leader of the thugs. I had been searching for him for days. That night I was lucky."

That's all this man needed to know. Since he had been in Minrathous for a long time, this would also explain how he knew this house. He wouldn't rub their noses in the fact that he had used the little one as bait. Some people reacted very sensitively. And many of them were wealthy. He might as well sign his death warrant. Zevran was not that stupid.

"And that the young gentleman belonged to this house, I could learn from the panicked calls of his guards. A little more secrecy would have been good for them. Not that it still matters now."

Did he see a smile on the baby magician's face? That made him much more sympathetic in the eyes of the elf. The blonde watched the magician's staff slowly sink. It worked. Was that so hard?

"You should really pay a little more attention to who you choose as a guard. They looked very impressive, but in battle... well. You should soon provide a replacement. By all accounts, this was the first attack, but certainly not the last."

He turned directly to Dorian.

"You should try necromancy. Then they would have a second chance and the dead would not stop fighting if you cut off their arm or leg."

Again Zevran turned to the old man. He just seemed unsure what to do with him. Exploiting uncertainties was his strength. The elf had been trained on this for years. Elegantly he bowed and reached for the door handle.

"If you would now excuse me, my employer awaits me longingly. Patience is not necessarily one of his virtues. Much to my regret, as I must admit."

So much for his generous reward. No real surprise in a city like this. No good deed remained unpunished. He quickly opened the door and stepped outside. Pick up the payment and then the quickest way back to Antiva. What an inhospitable place on earth.


	4. Dorian Part 2

Amused, Dorian watched the elf's performance. If there was one thing that could distract his father from his pondering, it was an indication of the incompetence of his subordinates. It was clear to the young magician that this did not fail to have the desired effect the moment Halward completely lowered his staff. But the frowning didn't bode well. But Dorian couldn't think any further about it, as the elf now spoke to him directly. This idea had its charm. At least he would then be able to distract himself if he ever met a whole bunch of thugs again. But that wouldn't do him much good in the near future. Not the last robbery... Great! Dorian fervently hoped that his father would now reconsider his attitude towards his teaching. He did not have to ask for temporary private lessons from the older magician. They had already tried that... it had not turned out well. The two Tevinters hadn't said a word about it since then. When Zevran stepped out of the door, Dorian went after him.

"Wait."

Without a last word he could not let the elf go. 

"I haven't thanked you yet for bailing me out. So... I thank you and I would like to have my staff back before you leave."

Meanwhile, Halward had a lot of things to think about. If what the elf said was true, he couldn't leave his son here without supervision for a second. But where was he supposed to find someone in a hurry? He himself would not stay in Minrathous for long. After all, he had many obligations as a magistrate. Until his departure he must have ensured that Dorian was safe here. His eyes were on the two young men outside the door. This accent coupled with a smug appearance... Halward had no doubt that this Zevran had obviously received the best assassination training in Thedas. This elf was not the first crow he met, nor would he be the last. And even if he didn't find this guy personally sympathetic, he wouldn't be able to find a more suitable candidate in such a short time.

"Not so hasty, young man. Please come in for a moment."

After his request had been complied with, Halward stowed his staff back in the designated holder behind his back and began to wander up and down, not letting Zevran out of his sight.

"As you were kind enough to note, I have to provide adequate protection for my son. Your abilities seem to be of great advantage here. So unless you have other obligations, I would like to make demands on your services. Of course, you will receive a generous reward."


	5. Zevran Part 3

Skeptically, the young elf looked up to the roofs of the city. No bandit to be seen. Probably they did not dare to enter this part of the city. He didn't like it much either. Quite pretty for a stroll, but if he had a job or was on the run it was completely unsuitable. However, to get clients from places like this, that was entirely to the taste of the blonde man. Behind him quick steps sounded. Reflexively, the practiced hands lay on the handles of the deadly daggers. The voice seemed very familiar to the Antivan. So he let his hands sink again and slowly turned around. The baby magician was either very naive or very courageous. If it were courage, there would be a lot of stupidity. The Assassin tipped on the former. He thanked him? Really? That had never happened to him before. Well, yes, but that only happened to him in completely different situations. The staff? Oh so, of course. He reached behind his back and took out the staff. He quickly wound it out of the rags and handed it to the young man.

"Forgive me. I'm just not used to that.” 

He pointed his eyes to the left. There was some shadow there. In addition, there were some columns that offered cover.

"You shouldn't run around on the open road so soon after a failed assassination attempt. It could be, as already mentioned by me, that there were more than ten attackers. Granted, they'd be stupid to attack you here, but I don't think they're the brightest candles in the chandelier."

Again the crow's eyes scurried over the roofs. Everything was still quiet, but the baby magician understood the discreet hint. The request of the older magician astonished him a little. He had gotten off lightly. Behind the younger man he entered the house again and closed the door so far that no bolt could get into the interior of the house, but not too far. Should it become necessary, he could simply slip out. At least the Tevinter put his staff away. Outwardly calm he stood there. From the corner of his eye he observed every movement of the other man. Whatever he was up to, he didn't really seem to like it himself. Now he had not counted on agreement. And not at all with this offer. This father had to be more desperate than he had thought. He asked a fox, so to speak, to guard his chickens. Just a few years ago he would have laughed out loud, or at least shown how amusing he found this suggestion. That had been driven out of him. Extremely painful even. So he looked at the man only expressionlessly. 

"Don't get me wrong. On the one hand I doubt that I would be the right choice and on the other hand it is not up to me to decide. I would first have to contact my employers and inform them."

That would be something different and could certainly become more interesting. But he wasn't a bodyguard. Really not. Shortly he took a look at the younger of the two men. He seemed to be less enthusiastic.

"Maybe your son should also have a say. After all, I would follow him all day long."

This objection didn't seem to really touch the older one. The wishes of his son seemed to interest him little. If this touched him in any way.


	6. Dorian Part 3

With a discreet nod he took his staff and could hardly believe what he heard next a moment later. Should no one really have thanked the elf yet? Well, as someone who dramatically shortened other people's lives for money, that wasn't surprising. But in the end he had not been born like that. Dorian could only speculate about the way the other man must have grown up, if he was only used to rough manners, which he inevitably did now. His curiosity was aroused. Nevertheless, he decided against questioning the older one. He would hardly get an honest answer. 

"Do not worry. There is nothing to forgive."

Following the advice of the other man, he stepped a few steps aside and into the protection of the next column. In a city like Minrathous, attacks on the better-off were not uncommon, and many of these attacks were not as mild as the one he was exposed to today. Actually, it had only been a matter of time. But so far nobody had dared to approach their family and Dorian had hoped that it would stay that way for quite a while - which was really incredibly naive. So when his father asked the Assassin back in, he tried to heed the words of the elf and always took care to stay under cover as far as possible.

Inside, he immediately noticed that his father was up to something. He was too familiar with his gestures. The words of the older magician confirmed his suspicion. Could his day get any worse? He was used to being accompanied by a troop of well-armed soldiers whenever he left the house. But someone who would follow him at every turn all day like the proverbial shadow... In the end the elf would sit next to his bed when he was asleep. A creepy imagination.

"Father, that cannot ..."

"Not another word, Dorian. The adults are talking."

Not an unusual reaction, but it made Dorian so angry at that moment that he couldn't say a word. After all, he was already fourteen years old. He could at least have a little say in that. His gaze wandered from his father to Zevran, who looked at him at the same time, even if only briefly. At least one of those still present seemed to be interested in what he thought of this suggestion. But the fact that he was a stranger had a bad taste. It was too bad that he had not yet mastered magic. So all he could do was to punish his father with sinister looks, while he turned again to the elf. 

"Well then, contact your employer. Tell him that you will be unavailable for a few weeks. Maybe longer. After all, it may take some time before I can put together a suitable new escort. And until then..." Halward pulled out a not exactly small bag of money - Dorian estimated its content to be 30 sovereigns - and threw it at the young elf. "Consider this a small pre-payment for your services. I'll stay in town until you get an answer."


	7. Zevran Part 4

This man really thought a lot of his son's opinion. Was family life in Tevinter like this? Or was it not at all different from other families? He caught the bag skillfully. Zevran had enough experience to estimate the content by the weight. The young elf pocketed the money. This man did not take no for an answer and the payment was extremely generous. He had already ended many lives for much less. For much less. The crows had to be contacted. That definitely did not fall within his remit. Theft and murder, yes. But protecting someone else's life... that might get complicated. The blonde man nodded and left the house after a short bow. Before that, he gave the younger magician a pitiful look. Poor boy. For his father he seemed to be a pretty piece of jewellery and should probably behave like one. On the street he took a deep breath. Instead of going to his employer, he took the path in the opposite direction. The destination was the lower town. There was a dealer there, with special training. A crow. Information dealer. Not for him, only for the leaders. They procured orders and reported. The shop was too good for this part of town. After all, there had to be an excuse for the rich magicians why they came here. Even if it was in the middle of the night, the door was not locked. So he entered a counter. He waited patiently until the merchant came out of the back room.

"Zevran, were you successful?"

"Of course. I'll just wait until tomorrow. News has to spread."

The merchant laughed rough. The blond elf didn't like him. He stank, was too conspicuous and above all useless. Most contact persons provided you with information, equipment or at least accommodation. This one wrote messages. That was all he did. Oh yes, he collected the money and sent promissory notes. The crows loved the idea of banks. He disliked them. He gave good gold and got a shred of paper for it. 

"I need a bird. I was offered a new job. It doesn't fall within my remit at all."

The dealer just nodded and took out his writing utensils. Zevran explained what had happened. After the other man had finished, he took a very close look at the writing. He was satisfied and handed the other 25 sovereigns. Silently he left the building and returned to the harbour. He assumed the news would take three days. Maybe two. It was about a lot of money. Tired, the elf closed his eyes and slept.

Two days had passed. He had shown the dagger and received the rest of the payment. He had used the time and had followed the young Pavus a few times. He was now mostly accompanied by his father. The arrogance of the magician was frightening, but also very amusing. They still took the same path and although they knew his face, they never noticed him. At least the younger one seemed to have learned something. He paid more and more attention to a good cover. He would be much harder to shoot than his father. He entered the shop again. There were two messages waiting for him. The content didn't surprise him much. He should accept this order. The other envelope was for the older Pavus. So Zevran went to fetch his few things. The way to the house of the magicians was difficult. There were guards everywhere. Again and again the elf had to evade them. Finally he reached the house. Zevran knew that he was too early, so he climbed on the roof and looked at the building. It was relatively safe. So he waited until evening. Already from a distance he recognized the two magicians. The younger one looked annoyed. As soon as they had entered the house, he climbed down and knocked on the door. He entered and bowed silently. He quickly handed the letter to the elder.  
He knew what was in that sealed letter. On the one hand, of course, the price. That was already clear. For the deposit alone he had finished three to five lives. Probably he could have committed 20 murders for the money. Then there was certainly the offer to hire some better trained people. At a higher price, of course. Finally a greeting formula. Nothing about his supply. They assumed that he would get what he needed. How well he was doing was irrelevant. The old man seemed satisfied. A slave girl showed Zevran the rooms he had access to. Of course all rooms for the slaves. He was amused when a young elf handed him a bowl of soup. The gentlemen would at least dine now and there was no room for him. He had to laugh quietly when he first had to wash himself. He probably didn't fit into this environment. The blonde man did not find the washing facilities surprising. Every inn, no matter how shabby, had more to offer than this room. Only cold water. At least the soap and the oils were very fragrant. But he didn't use any of them. What good was it to be silent and almost invisible when you could smell him three miles against the wind? He spent some time cleaning his armour. Especially the boots looked worn out. He was already taken to the young man's room. He seemed to be very angry. 

"It's nice that you're so happy to see me."

First Zevran went to the thin mattress on the floor next to the bed and pulled it to the other wall. So he should even sleep in a room with his protégé? Great! Annoyed, he put his backpack down and looked around the room. It was gigantic. Skeptically he stepped up to the window and looked out. No straight line of fire. Good. Calmly he put the dagger of his last victim in front of the magician's nose. He had been allowed to keep it.

"Take it. I don't care what your father says about it. As long as I'm responsible for your safety and he hasn't taken care of a practical education, I don't want you to walk around completely defenseless."

The unbelieving look of the magician made him smile. As soon as his protégé held the dagger in his hand, Zevran grabbed it and led it.

"Pierce, turn, pull out and run away. That will give you time. Turning prevents the wound from closing too quickly. If you hit correctly, this opponent will never cause you problems again. And wear it concealed. Otherwise Daddy will freak out."

He stepped back and sat down on the mattress. What they thought of him in this house was very obvious. He had to sleep on the floor. A simple straw mattress that probably just didn't smell like piss because it would offend the little one's nose, no blanket and no pillow either. He probably shouldn't be too comfortable. So he pulled his coat out of his backpack. That would do it. At least an increase to his last quarters.


	8. Dorian Part 4

The older Pavus watched contentedly as the elf bowed and then stepped out of the house. Halward was convinced that the young man would return. The crows would certainly not refuse such a profitable assignment. Happy to have one less thing to worry about for the time being, having bought himself some time for the urgent completion of his most important task, he turned to his son, who was about to leave the room.

“Dorian, I would like to change words with you.”

The younger magician had noticed the elf's gaze as he left the estate, but had intentionally stopped responding. If there was one thing Dorian did not want, it was compassion. He preferred it when outsiders only had one look for the beautiful appearance and the good reputation of his family. This wasn't a problem for most of their social contacts anyway, as they were only interested in their own welfare and the reputation they enjoyed with other high-ranking clans. And, of course, for their lines to be enriched by arranged weddings with even more powerful offspring. Superficiality was therefore his best ally. The elf, on the other hand, was of a completely different caliber, probably knowing much more of the world than Dorian would ever see. So a golden cage wasn't such a bad lot compared to many other fates. Nevertheless, he did not like the idea that the assassin would inevitably gain a deeper impression of the relationship between father and son. So the coming days would be cheerful.

Dorian breathed deeply before he turned to his father and demonstratively crossed his arms in front of his chest. What else now?

“Just so that we understand each other correctly. I will no longer tolerate this rebellious behaviour that you have shown lately. Until this elf is here again, I will accompany you to your lessons, in every free minute you will put your head in the books and otherwise not leave the house. And don't you dare give me any more objections in front of others. I am still your father and know what is best for you. Have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal clear.” Why make the situation worse now? He still had nothing to oppose the older magician. Dorian's decision to escape the influence of his father as quickly as possible became even stronger in this second. Somehow he would manage to escape the control that was still ahead of him. He was sure of that.

“May I withdraw now, father?”

Halward confirmed by nodding once. That’s why Dorian didn't wait a second longer and immediately took the direct path to his room. Normally the two magicians would have met again for dinner, but he had lost his appetite anyway. In his own four rooms he had at least his peace and quiet and as long as this was still the case, the young magician had to take advantage of it. While he was still getting ready for bed, he was excruciatingly annoyed by the last conversation they had had. His father knew what was best for him? Apparently not when he sent him back to that bungler. That night, he found no sleep.

The next day was as monotonous as the older magician had predicted. Getting up, books rolling around under supervision, going to his lessons, eating meals with his father in between, during which they kept silent, and going to bed at the end of the day unnerved. This is how one imagined his life as a young adolescent. On the second day after the young elf had left them, Dorian listlessly trotted after his father. He was in no particular hurry to get home. He appreciated every moment outside their home, even if he was potentially in danger. But the younger magician was still aware of Zevran's advice, which is why he paid more attention to his environment than the older Pavus did. Dorian began to develop a slight fascination for the necessary abilities of an assassin. At every corner there was an opportunity for an assassination attempt and the good citizens of this city were apparently not even aware of it, although such scenes often took place in the streets. 

There was a hustle and bustle at home. The young elves his father had employed as servants scampered through the rooms, always anxious to do everything to their master's complete satisfaction. Dorian always stayed out of their way and avoided getting them involved in a conversation. His father didn't appreciate idleness and Dorian didn't want to be the reason for punishment. But there was no question that the reins would be a bit looser again as soon as the elder had left for Qarinus. The younger Pavus didn't like to command. Why even if one could simply be friendly? After eating together, he went straight back to his room and truncated when he saw the simple mattress next to his bed. Should the elf really sleep in his room? The thought had already come to him two days ago, but he had by no means meant it seriously. His mood was suddenly sad. When Zevran was led into his room barely a moment later - accompanied by a young elf - he couldn't help but roll his eyes lightly. The elderly reacted accordingly as he looked around the room. Dorian admonished himself. After all, it wasn't the elf's fault.

“Forgive me, I'm having trouble getting used to this situation.”

The young magician watched the other attentively. Apparently he seemed to become familiar with the circumstances. There was no reason for concern, otherwise there would have been derogatory comments about the carelessness of certain rich magicians. When he saw the dagger, he suddenly felt uneasy. Zevran was certainly not wrong, but he could not stab others with such a thing. How did you deal with it at all? His thoughts seemed to be written all over his face, because the elf directly explained to him how best to take out his opponents. He listened attentively and repeated the movements, but doubted that he was doing them right. “And you think I can do it?” For now, Dorian couldn't put the dagger out of his hand fast enough. So he just threw it on his bed.

Frowning, he looked at the older man and the sparse sleeping place. This could easily be changed. After all, the elf had already unconsciously done him a favor by pulling the mattress against the opposite wall of his bed. Immediately he set off to search for Filyina and asked her to bring a real bed into his room. In this house there were innumerable unused bedrooms, there would be certainly one spare. After he had reassured her that his father wouldn't notice, since he had never visited him in his room before in his life, he went back to Zevran. From the door he watched the elf unpacking, if you could even call it that. In any case, he didn't possess much.

“Don't get too used to this camp. You won't keep it for long.”


	9. Zevran Part 5

"When pure fear for your life sets in, you're capable of a lot of things. Leading a dagger is the easiest thing to do. At least easier than casting a spell. At least I think so. This may not be true for experienced magicians."

As soon as the younger magician had disappeared, Zevran stood up again and crossed the room several times. He listened to every sound. He had quickly found the creaking floorboards. He liked to know the surroundings. Normally he would still move the room, but the little magician certainly had something against it. So he opened the window and looked down. No lead, but still it was easy to reach. Grinning, he distributed a few crow's feet on the outer windowsill. The landing from the roof would now be very painful and above all loud. That should give him enough time. Satisfied, the young elf sat down on the mattress again. He pulled some more traps out of his pocket. Nothing big, he would have to get it first, but it should be enough for the beginning. As soon as he sat down again, the other one came in again. How pretty. What came now? He stood up without a word. Whatever the younger one had in mind, he would find out, but not now. He had work to do.

"I am on the roof."

So he left the house again and went back to the roof of the building. A little tripwire here and there and a few crow's feet, of course. A few leghold traps wouldn't be bad. Up here, no slave would get lost in a trap. Would be tragic. The whole work in vain. Wouldn't happen to him for the first time. The blonde man turned another round around the house. Really too many entrances. Why did you need so many windows? That was bullshit. But good. What did he know about wealth? Through another window he got inside again. Surprised he looked at the new bed. He sat down on the new camp. Very comfortable. 

"Thank you."

Zevran lay down. That used to be a bed. The last time he had lain in something like that... oh yes. Alone he had never lain in something like that before. All these pillows. Why did you need them all? Oh yes, decoration. He lay awake for a long time. Sharing a room with someone else was not so easy with his sharpened senses. Dorian was also a very restless sleeper. Teenager...

The next morning he woke up before the other, but not very long before him. His father was already waiting for him with breakfast. Zevran went down again to the slaves. The food was scarce. Great... so he had to take care of it himself to get meat and eggs every now and then. Something else he could add to his list. After the meal he went up again. At least the little one was supposed to go to class. Together they left the residence. The elf ran very calmly next to his protégé. Of course he kept a close eye on the surroundings, but nobody had to notice that. He always tried hard not to look like a guard. Arriving at the teacher's house he was yelled at directly that he had nothing to touch. As soon as the old man turned his back on him, he had nothing better to do than to take a closer look at some books. As soon as the man turned around, he pretended that nothing had happened.


	10. Dorian Part 5

After he had his room to himself again, he first noticed that something was different than it had been minutes before. What was that over there on the windowsill? Driven by curiosity, he went over and took a look outside. He had quickly grasped how this type of trap worked. If he imagined himself getting into one of these... He felt a spark of compassion for the poor drip that might one day be. Anyway, one thing was certain. The elf really wasted no time. What other surprises had he thought up for all the unwanted guests? Had he already equipped this room in any way? Dorian looked around, but couldn't find anything. Relieved, he dropped onto his bed and closed his eyes for a few seconds. A few hours of sleep would be just the thing. But this was not yet granted to him, because shortly afterwards the desired bed was brought into his room. He thanked the elves who had been entrusted with this task and let them know that he would need nothing more for today. As they withdrew, he remembered the dagger lying next to one of the pillows. He sat up, grabbed it and turned it from side to side to look at it closely. Zevran's words went through his head. As much as he resisted the thought, the correct use of such a weapon could be useful to him at times. Carefully, he drove one finger along the blade. He really didn't know much about stabbing weapons. Actually nothing at all. But as sharp as this dagger was, you should be able to cut someone's throat effortlessly. At least that's what the assassin had looked like a few days ago. Maybe he should ask the elf to show him what he needed to know in a real training session. Deep in his thoughts, he didn't notice the eldest's return until he had laid down on his bed thanking him. The magician almost injured himself on the blade. Was the other man always so noiseless?

"You're welcome."

He briefly considered whether to ask the elf directly, but then decided against it. He had enough for today. And he estimated that Zevran could not do otherwise. So he put the dagger on the bedside table, extinguished the candle that stood on it and lay down hoping to find sleep that night.

The next morning came much too early for him. He felt totally knackered. The presence of another person had left him almost no sleep. And the estimated two hours in which he had dozed off from time to time hadn't even been nearly restful. Accordingly, Dorian didn't feel a great urge to get up immediately, as he always did. For a moment he lifted his head slightly to look over to the other bed. Since he found this already empty, he let himself fall back into the pillows, sighing. Only a few more minutes...   
When Filyina told him through the closed door, accompanied by a knock, that his father was already waiting for him for breakfast, he finally tortured himself out of the sheets and asked her to tell the older Pavus that he was coming down. His father would have to wait a little longer. After all, he couldn't leave the house unwashed. Contrary to his habits, however, he didn't take much time this morning. He did not have to span the bow. Of course, his father did not appreciate this courtesy when he sat opposite him half an hour later.

“It's nice that you still appear, my son.”

The pointed tone did not escape Dorian, but he decided to answer this comment with a smile. His father stood up rolling his eyes. 

“Be that as it may. I will leave in the course of the day. Now that the crow is in the house, I see no reason to stay any longer. That no complaints will come to me while I am away. You follow the instructions or there will be consequences.”

With these words the elder left him alone. Dorian leaned back in his chair. So his father had instructed someone to report to him regularly. He had already expected that. Was Zevran the one? Well, to think about it now was of no use. He would find out yet.

In the afternoon he squatted over the same books as the day before. But his concentration was not on the already known written words in front of him. From the corner of his eye he watched the elf as he browsed through the shelves and completely ignored the nagging of his teacher earlier. Fortunately, the latter did not pay any further attention to the elder since they had entered his house. The reason was obvious. Why should he even deal with a lower being? Master Craius only saw him as a slave. And they had to obey. The idea that a supposed serf created a little chaos promised a welcome change to this rut. It shouldn't be difficult to attract the attention of the old magician. Dorian simply pestered him with as many idiotic questions as he could think of. He knew that answering them would cost the old man the last remaining patience he could possibly muster for his student. That should buy Zevran enough time. It also gave him the opportunity to find out if Zevran was his father's informant.

“Have you listened to me even once in the last weeks, boy?” Craius rubbed his forehead. “This youth of today. Nothing but nonsense in their heads.”

There you go, the old man took the bait. All he had to do now was nod from time to time, ask supplementary questions or pretend he still hadn't understood something. Hours passed. If and what the elf had done, he could unfortunately not follow without one of them being discovered. On leaving, however, a very loud swearing was heard. Dorian had to smile. He would not have thought that the magician had such a rich vocabulary of swearwords. Shortly afterwards the door behind them opened and the angry man followed them.

“Don't you dare come back to my house with that useless knife-ear, Dorian Pavus!”

The person addressed turned around. It was easy for the elven slaves of the old magician, who had been startled by the noise, to hold their master back. He didn't have much strength left. It had already been used up for cursing.

“You have been my student for the longest time!”

Oh, that could only be right for him. With a suggested bow he turned his back on Craius. This gesture was of course no sign of respect, which made the old magician scold even more. Dorian ignored him, stepped out the front door and slowly headed home. His gaze wandered to the elf at his side, while a smile graced his lips.

“I wonder why he was so upset.”


	11. Zevran Part 6

The young elf was quite aware that his protégé was helping him. Grinning inwardly, he started to tamper with the locked drawers of the desk. Just some papers. But also one or the other interesting letter. He could not read well. The most important thing. But some words here were known to him. He also knew the recipient of the letters. He quickly plugged them in. Also a few other letters changed the owner. Suddenly he was approached by a young woman. The granddaughter of the old man. She considered him Dorian's slave and demanded help from him. She wanted something from a cupboard. Without effort the blonde climbed up the high cupboard. How the woman looked at him now. It didn't take long and they drank wine together.

"So you come from Antiva?"

"Yes, bella."

"Bella means mistress?"

"No. It means beautiful."

"You are bold."

"I'm honest, bella."

"My grandfather would have you whipped."

"I don't belong to your grandfather, bella."

"You belong to Dorian Pavus?"

He smiled only as an answer. They still talked a little. Zevran learned some very interesting things. One or the other was probably very scandalous in these circles. For him it was nothing new. People were the same everywhere. But there was something that he didn't like very much. After some time and further flattery on his part the young woman was like wax in his hands. The prudish upbringing was very good for him here. She showed him where he found the things that interested him. One or two locks had to be cracked, but that was really no problem. The bag he carried for Dorian was now much heavier, but it was worth it. After all, it was time to go. Amused he perceived the spectacle. 

"I'll tell you about it in a second. Just a moment."

He went back and knocked on the door again. As soon as the old magician stood in front of him he held his dagger to his throat. Coldly he grinned at the man. Pure panic was written on his face. They thought they were so powerful... he liked to show them how close they were to death. Especially when he was near.

"Listen to me carefully, old man. Very exactly. I have your letters. These letters. If you come any closer to the young Pavus than once, this evidence will end up with the authorities and what is even more important... in your circle. Everyone will know what your preferences are. What will the young man's father do when he finds out what a perverted bastard you are? I will not kill you. I could, but I will destroy you. Have we understood each other?"

He stepped next to Dorian again and brought him home. What had just happened had not clouded his mood. He walked calmly next to the young magician. Whenever he wanted to ask him, he just shook his head for a moment. Not here. Not on the street. Arriving at the house he pulled the other one into his room and closed the door behind him. The slaves didn't have to hear that. 

"I drank his best wine. That should have pleased him little. That his granddaughter had fun with an elven slave doesn't make things any better."

He opened the bag and took three books out of it. Dorian's eyes became huge. Yes, he had stolen. If the little one was right, these books were very valuable. They were about necromancy and were the rarest works in the field. They were in great demand. Very few magicians had ever seen even one of these books.

"Since the cupboard is still locked, the absence of the books should not have upset him. He will miss them, but do nothing about it."

Again he reached into his pocket and took out the letters.

"I found these too. Reading is not my strength. I'm not very good at it. That is still expressed very beautifully. What I have understood are these letters to your father. What it says you have to find out for yourself. And these... As I said, I cannot read well, but it is about buying slaves. Very young slaves. Children, to be exact and in the other... it is a bill. Disposal of bodies. According to the price... He has great interest that they are not found. I can imagine why."

Zevran put the letters in his pocket. The little one didn't have to read that. He had seen it often enough. He really wanted to spare his protégé that. He sat down on the bed and put some knives down, which he carried hidden on his body. You could only see his two daggers, but he carried considerably more weapons with him. The blonde sighed softly and looked at Dorian.

"I know you are a magician and the use of a dagger frightens you off. The disgusted face has spoken volumes... I don't say I'm a good teacher either, but I'll teach you a little about this weapon. Consider it a target exercise or muscle training. But as I said before, as long as you haven't been better trained, you have to be able to defend yourself somehow. I don't expect you to kill. I don't expect you to like it either, but that's all I can offer you. I am not a magician."

The blonde elf frowned briefly. He took off his armor and controlled his bandage. The wound had opened again. Sighing, he took it off and applied the ointment again. The look of the other hung on the scars that adorned his upper body. The wound seemed to unsettle him. 

"Minrathous is not necessarily my city. All the guards get so nervous when they see an elf walking alone through the streets. Isn't it semi-optimal to kill escaping property?"

He grinned briefly at the answer. The little one seemed to be quite fascinated by the scars. Zevran stood up and turned around for a moment and started to put on a new bandage. The hissing of the other surprised him at first. Oh yes, his back.

"Whiplashes. The first thing I learned in my training was stealing. If you are caught, the punishment is as follows. Five blows from the city guard. Of course on the market place, so that people have something to see and then another twenty from my instructors. At least not in public. Screaming elf children are a popular entertainment in Antiva. Often we were betrayed by our instructors even at the guard. When everyone watches this spectacle, they no longer pay attention to their stock exchanges."

When asked, he smiled slightly.

"Go ahead. Touch them if you want. It doesn't hurt. I wasn't caught very often either."

The touches were gentle. Almost carefully. Something like that had no place in the world of the young magician. He did not know such a thing at all. Especially here in Minrathous there were more than enough magicians who could heal wounds properly. He also knew that there was magic that could make these scars fade. They would still be there, but much less visible. Only who could afford that? He certainly couldn't. The palpating hand seemed to tremble slightly.

"Don't worry. I survived it and that was by far not the worst. But I should continue now. Filyina has enough to do without wiping my blood off the floor."


End file.
